Requiem: Argonian, Part One
by Silas Jericho
Summary: Part One of a series. Character's name TBA, might let you all pick. Very good in means of story. Please comment. Enjoy.


As the early morning sun rose over the hillside, the Argonian held his head up high, to smell the air. He detected the scent of freshly baked bread, but that wasn't the smell he searched for, because the thing he hunted for had not ever smelled that great or fresh. Then he caught it: That faint scent of rotting flesh and smelly fur, matted to that foul creature he was hunting. You see, he had never wanted to be a hunter, but a sailor or fisherman. But unfortunately, his father had found a talent within him that he exploited to make coin: His son could track anything, hit it, no matter the distance, and kill it. But it wasn't as simple as that, because he had a very powerful magika lineage that started with him, which only amplified his powers to well-beyond-Dark Elf capabilities.

And so he sat here, on this hill in Redguard, searching for a Troll that had been causing trouble for even the native peoples. He had spent about a fortnight making his way here, and only took three hours of dedicated search to find the damned beast. He didn't even have to open his eyes to tell that the monstrous beast was plowing its way to him right now, but he didn't care, for no beast had ever come close to beating him. So he didn't even move, or open his eyes, and then he drew his dagger and sword that had been his best-friends since he was thirteen. He heard the Troll's labored breathing as it climbed the rocky outcropping that he stood atop of, and he waited until the last possible second, and then swung his sword back in a full arc.

He caught the Troll right on its right arm, cutting off a portion of it. The monster roared and swatted him down the hill, making the Argonian tumble all the way down, and then the beast joined him at the bottom. He lay in wait, trying to time the moment when he knew the beast would try and take advantage of him by pounding him into the ground with its one good arm. Surely enough, the thing closed in and started to relax its breathing, believing it had won and would drag this kill off to its den to feast upon it. But as soon as the thing stood over the Argonian, he lunged at the Troll's face, stabbing it repeatedly over and again, till it dropped dead on the ground. He sat down, breathing in the fresh air of Redguard, so foreign to this native of Black Marsh, but so welcome at the same time. The Argonian made a fire close by the beast, using its own flesh to start the fire, but saving the eyes and tongue as proof of his kill. Sitting down around his fire's warmth, he drew a pack of uncooked meat from his pocket and started to roast it over the fire.

He looked off into the distance and sighed as the morning sun seemed to glimmer at his kill, which he took no pride in from. After some time, the meat was done, to the point where it was almost falling off the spit. The Argonian drooled at the thought of the taste, thanked the Eight and One for his amazing food, and consumed it, saving every single morsel. Finally, he decided it was time to go back to Black Marsh and tell his father that he had completed the quest, so that the pig could get his pay he didn't deserve. He didn't know why he always came back, but he did and was about sick of it, tired of being enslaved by his own father. If only his mother was still alive, she would've set him straight and made him stop this a long time ago, but she had died in a raid by the Khajiits. He didn't hold grudges; those only took up space in one's health and soul, so he did the next best thing: He planned to hunt down every last one of them, kill them, and remind them of her as he was doing it. Maybe that was why he kept coming back to his father; to bring peace to both of their minds and so they could finally part ways. But until he could get the nerve to tell his father to release him from his unofficial slavery, he'd never start the hunt.

He grabbed his knapsack and started to move southeast, back to the comfort of his homeland. He longed for the swamp's welcoming embrace in the form of water and for the beauty of the nature to take him back to that safe place he remembered as a child, but he would have to go back through the land of the Imperial's. And those people he could not stand, no matter the age or gender or height or weight, he despised them all equally. But he was never too quick to judge, for he would give time to people to prove themselves, but most often, the Imperial's always fell flat on their faces. He had yet to meet an Imperial who truly impressed him; sure, there was that hero that had run around the area two-hundred years ago, freeing the people from the Gates of Oblivion opening and sending forth horde after horde of Daedra, but he was one-hundred and twenty years dead. But that was besides the fact: The hero hadn't even been from the Imperial's country, he had been an Argonian, proud and true to his people, always placing them before himself. But he didn't have time to dwell on this, for a roaming group of Khajiit mercenaries were ahead, more than likely ready to kill anything, especially an Argonian. He cursed political and racial tensions and rushed the group, drawing his blades and shooting a powerful sudden burst of fire energy in between them, causing them all to be momentarily blind.

He then charged the group of bipedal cats, cutting down one immediately, spurring the other Khajiits into immediate action. Though blind, they used their sense of smell to sniff out the Argonian's moist scales, which he had to keep smooth and sleek to make sure he didn't prematurely peel. The Khajiits attacked with blind ferocity, making the usually calm warriors extremely aggravated, and they swatted blindly at him with their daggers and claws. Child's play really, but he decided to kill them quickly, so he could get back on track. So he drew them in by holding still, then waited till they made lunges at him, and he would grab their over-extended arms and break them, then stab them. He was done in five seconds. He sighed, shook his head in sadness and continued to walk away…


End file.
